


Wonder

by koto



Series: Wonder [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koto/pseuds/koto
Summary: “You know, I almost wonder if I might just be in love with you.”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Wonder [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000023
Comments: 28
Kudos: 364





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is part two of a series, so if you haven't read "Hush", please do so before reading this!  
> I wanted to continue their story, and when I started I thought it would be super short, then I thought it would turn into something like 12k, but this is where we ended up. I think they came to a natural conclusion earlier than I expected and it would have been pointless to drag it out, I hope you all agree and don't think it's too rushed!  
> I always love comments, so leave your thoughts below! I always try to answer quickly!
> 
> Find me on twitter at @0hrhj0

“You know, I almost wonder if I might just be in love with you.”

Minho spins in his desk chair to look at Jisung, unsure what to make of what he’s just said and how casually he’s said it. Maybe he really is a bit too casual, lounging on Minho’s bed with his legs up against the wall, head hanging off the edge. He’s not even looking up, his nose is buried in his phone. _ He sure is unphased for a supposed man in love. _

“Pardon?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I mean, I definitely liked kissing you. Not that you’ve paid any attention to the fact that it happened,” he says, putting his phone down on the bed and jutting his lips out in a pout. “Some boyfriend you are.”

“You were serious about that?”

Minho had passed it off as a heat of the moment thing when Jisung had pulled him into a kiss last night and whispered promises of a relationship into his lips. They’d kissed a little more, indulged in some jungle juice (made by the frat bros with love), and before he’d known it Minho woke up in his bed with Jisung by his side, both fully clothed and not even having bothered to remove their shoes. Jisung simply hadn’t left, just stayed lounging in Minho’s room and neglecting his homework while Minho tended to his own. That’s what brings them to now, with this extraordinarily sudden confession after nearly forty minutes of silence.

“Why, you don’t want to?” Jisung asks, sliding his socked feet across the wall (Minho’s socks) and rolling up the legs of his sweatpants (Minho’s sweatpants) as he waits for an answer.

_ Of course he wants to. _

_ Probably.  _

The only mental blockade he has is that Jisung has been his best friend verging on two years. That’s two years of watching him date around, fall in love, break up, realize he wasn’t in love, and do it all over again. Jisung has a tendency to get smitten over a stranger, dress himself up nicely and act all coy and make boys want him until they realize it’s kind of an act. The chase must be more fun for him than the actual relationships, because they never last too long. 

Minho can’t be one in a long lineup of men who fall for Jisung only to never hear from him again. This is his best friend.

“I’m just a little skeptical that we kissed once and you’re already in love with me.”

“We kissed more than once.”

“You know what I mean,” Minho says, rolling up to Jisung so his chair is aligned with the bed and pulling his friends head into his lap. “It’s a little bit sudden, no?”

“Then kiss me again,” Jisung says, a mischievous grin on his lips. Minho flicks him on the forehead, making him scowl and clutch it in (fake) pain. “Ow. You’re a monster. I didn’t say I definitely was, I just said I  _ wonder _ if I am.”

“I wonder if you aren’t just delusional. Don’t you think you’d know?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung says, getting up with a dramatic move and sitting on his knees facing Minho. “Kiss me again.”

“You haven’t brushed your teeth today,” Minho says. He wants to kiss Jisung. He wants to kiss him  _ so bad. _ But he’s scared of the repercussions. 

“I have. I opened your suitemates spare package of toothbrushes.”

“Jisung! Seungmin’s gonna kill me,” Minho sighs, burying his head in his hands. Jisung picks it back up for him, clasping a hand on either side of his neck and staring into his eyes before blowing a minty breeze directly at him.

“He told me I could. Said my breath smelled like death. Stop making excuses. Do you not want to kiss me?” Jisung asks, eyes wide and focused. He doesn’t look completely sure of himself, as much as he likes to feign confidence. Minho can feel his fingers trembling slightly against his neck, doesn’t miss the way his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth. He knows Jisung’s tells. 

And he  _ does _ want to kiss him. He always wants to kiss him, he’d just never really had the reason or the will to act on it. Thus is being inexplicably attracted to your best friend, especially when they’re never available. But in this moment, he is. So he clasps either side of his best friend's waist, pulls him off the bed and into his lap, directs his head down, and pulls the trigger. Jisung’s lips are a little dry, probably from dehydration (if their shared gnarly hangovers are anything to go by), but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he’s pulling away five seconds later, looking up at Jisung for some kind of answer.

There isn’t one, nothing he can understand at least with Jisung mumbling (as he tends to do) before pulling Minho back into something a little… more. He wouldn’t say it’s a heated kiss; there’s no tongue, no wandering hands, just the slow and sweet movement of two pairs of lips exploring one another. It’s alarmingly romantic. When Jisung pulls away after a few minutes, he looks even more confused than before. “Well?” 

He’s still and quiet for a while, something that Jisung does  _ not _ tend to be, and Minho waits patiently as fingers trace up his neck, over his jaw, and through his hair. Like Jisung is trying to physically map out whatever is going through his head.

“I wonder.” 

He stands up abruptly, leaving Minho nearly toppling over in his seat as he rolls backwards. “Jisung?”

“I have to go do homework. Is it ok if I give your clothes back later? Tomorrow?”

“Uh- yeah, it’s fine. Wait, are we good?” Minho asks.  _ Shit.  _ He’s already getting left behind. Why did he think that they could just do that and not drive a giant wedge between them?

“We’re good. I promise, I just have homework,” Jisung says, grabbing Minho’s wrists and pulling him up. “I promise,” he says again firmly, pressing another kiss to Minho’s lips and pulling away to study his reaction.

And then he’s gone, leaving Minho in his wake with a finger pressed to his mouth trying to determine if everything that just happened was real. And if it was, what on earth he’s supposed to make of it.

* * *

“Hello, Minho. Or should I say, traitor?”

“Pardon?”

Minho looks up from his spot at the kitchen table shared by his suitemates, putting his pen down and squinting at Hyunjin.

“Your boyfriend just gave me these to give back to you,” he says, placing a plastic bag on the table. Minho opens it to see his sweatpants and tee shirt, frowning at the findings.  _ Why hadn’t he given them back in person?  _ “Your boyfriend, which you have now. Who is Jisung. Jisung is your boyfriend now.”

“Why didn’t he just come here himself?” Minho asks, tossing the clothes to the floor. 

Hyunjin pulls out the chair across from Minho and takes a seat, resting his head in his hands and leaning in to inspect him. “Said he didn’t have time to come by right now but he’d text you later. You’re not denying it.”

“He has time to go around telling people he’s my boyfriend but not bring the clothes back?”

“So he really is your boyfriend?”

Minho swallows deeply, unsure how to explain the situation without getting into the gritty details and raveling his mind into a giant knot. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s kind of a yes or no question, isn’t it? He seems to say yes,” Hyunjin says with a sweet smile and a knowing look. Minho isn’t fooled by that, this kid is up to something. 

“I get the distinct feeling that you’re playing double agent right now, and I kindly request that you mind your own damn business. If you’re gonna go report back to him, report that he owes me a visit,” Minho says, picking his pen back up and refocusing on his work. Hyunjin hovers around him for a moment or two more before giving up and sulking into his room.

Sure enough, Minho gets a text not twenty minutes later.

**Ji:** _ did Hyunjin give u ur shit back _

**Min:** _ Yeah _

**Min:** _ Thought it was supposed to be you giving it back. If you’re gonna call yourself my boyfriend I think you should come see me first no? _

**Ji:** _ uhh am I in trouble _

**Min:** _ I still have your favorite jeans. You’re going to have to come back eventually or I’ll burn them. _

**Ji:** _ be there in 30  _

**Min:** _ <3 _

Minho stands up and stretches his limbs, leaving his arms in the air a bit longer than he needs to, enjoying the burn while mentally preparing himself for whatever conversation is about to happen. It’s probably best they figure this out now. There’s a dull light and the muffled sound of the tv coming out of Hyunjin’s room, and when Minho knocks on the door his suitemate calls for him to come in.

“Hi.”

“Hi. You actually texted him, huh?”

“I did,” Hyunjin confirms, holding up his phone and grinning. 

“Ok, well he’s gonna be here soon. Do you know when Seungmin’s coming home?” Minho asks. Hyunjin smirks at him, like he knows something Minho doesn’t. Like he knows something he’s not supposed to. 

“Why? You two need an empty apartment?”

“What?” Minho has to think for a second before he realizes what Hyunjin’s implying. “Oh my god, no, we just need to talk and I don’t want him bursting in. Nothing a closed door can’t contain.”

“How often does Seungmin really burst into your room?”

“Like four times a week he opens the door without knocking to see if I’m in bed and then leaves.”

“Are you sure it’s only four times a week?” he asks. “What if it’s seven days a week and the other three days you’re just already asleep when he does it?”

“I really don’t have time for this. Can you please tell him not to do that? I’m trusting you to tell him not to do that. I believe in you,” Minho says, growing more and more exasperated with the conversation as his time ticks away.    
  


Hyunjin seems to notice. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? What the hell did I miss? He’s your best friend.”

“We kissed at a party on Saturday night and now he says he might be in love with me.”

Hyunjin stares at him, face dropping as he puckers his lips together in a poorly disguised attempt not to laugh. Eventually he fails, tilting head head back and giggling loudly. “Oh me god,” he gasps, “oh god, he probably is, though. You’re like a fucking angel compared to the trash he normally dates, I actually hope he is.”

“Thanks,” Minho deadpans.    
  


“Wait, what’s the problem? You’ve had the hots for him the whole time I’ve known you,” Hyunjin giggles, still unable to control himself. “Why aren’t you happy?”

“Because he says he’s in love with everyone. And he’s never dated anyone for more than like a month. This feels like how I’ll lose him.”

Hyunjin takes a few deep breaths and finally speaks normally. “Yeah, but you know you’re different, right? You should listen to him.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Minho says. “I wonder. I gotta go pick up a bit before he gets here. Pass the message on to Seungmin, ok?”

“You got it.”

Minho makes his way into the bathroom, hoping that if he splashes some water on his face it might clear his mind. He looks at himself, wonders if he looks like someone Jisung could actually fall for. Wonders if the look on his face is also potentially the look of someone in love. He doesn’t know, he’s never been in love. He’s barely done anything romantic in years aside from one night stands at parties and a two month cycle of downloading tinder, laughing at the guys with dumb profile pictures holding fish, and deleting it four days later. It’s not like he’s been waiting for Jisung, he’s just not sure what the point of dating is when he can get his emotional satisfaction from their friendship and his physical satisfaction from random strangers he meets on friday nights.

It seems that that was a ticking time bomb, and Minho’s time is up. He glances around their sink, stares at Hyunjin’s eyeliner for a second before shoeing the thought away. He does reach for his cologne, pressing the nozzle down ever so slightly and spraying some into the inside of his left wrist and pressing it together with the right. He doesn’t want to seem like he just put it on in case Jisung gets a big head about him getting dolled up.

As it turns out, he shouldn’t have worried so much about a tiny splash of perfume because Jisung shows up looking like he’s ready to take Minho down. Minho knows his best friend's wardrobe like the back of his hand, and this is a date outfit. They bought those jeans together upon a mutual consensus that they make his ass look amazing. That shirt, while at first glance looks like a simple loose white button down, is the one that shows a little more chest than anyone would expect, making the golden skin of his already elegant neck look absolutely delectable. Minho nearly misses it at first, but upon a closer look at Jisung’s eyes, he can see they’re rimmed in a deep brown liner, natural but just enough to make them pop. He’s not messing around. 

“You’re staring at me,” Jisung says after Minho leaves him standing a few beats too long in the doorway. 

“Sorry,” Minho says, swallowing down his urges and trying to keep his self control. “But in my defense, you kind of look like you came here wanting to be stared at.”

Jisung absolutely beams at that (of course he does, Minho knows how much he likes compliments), but tries to play it off. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m just here for my jeans and shirt.”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho says, following as Jisung takes off down the hall to his bedroom. When he steps inside Jisung is already sat comfortably on his bed, patting the space across from him for Minho to come join.

“So.”

“So.”

“So you’re introducing me as your boyfriend now,” Minho offers, trying to get the conversation off in a way that doesn’t feel accusatory. Jisung still shrinks a little, lip tucked into his teeth and shoulders sagging. “I’m not mad, but when did we decide that?”

“Literally yesterday!” Jisung cries out. “Did you miss our entire conversation?” Jisung, apparently, is less concerned about the confrontation.

“Conversation?” Minho asks. They are so not on the same page here. “What conversation? You kissed me and left. Why did you leave?”

“Because,” he says, shrinking back down. “That was kind of embarrassing.”

“What? Kissing me?”

“No. I liked kissing you. I already told you I like kissing you. But you didn’t say it back.”

“Huh?”

“I said ‘I wonder if I might be in love with you’ and you didn’t say anything positive back. You called me delusional and tried to come up with reasons not to kiss me.”

“I-” Minho starts, unsure what to really say. “I was shocked. I had no idea you felt that way. And I did eventually kiss you.”

Jisung scoots up a little closer, putting his hands on Minho’s shoulders to make sure he doesn’t look away. “You’re still not saying anything back.”

“I mean, I did say it before. I’ve always been interested,” Minho says, leaning back on his hands as Jisung shifts onto his knees. “But you’re never single. Always chasing after douchebags. I never took the time to consider if my feelings went further than that, it felt pointless. You weren’t available.”

“Maybe if you’d said that before I would have made myself available. Maybe it’d be fun to chase after you instead,” Jisung says, shifting his position again so he’s practically in Minho’s lap. 

“Not sure you’d have had to chase all that hard,” Minho says, once again swallowing down his urges as he stares up at the boy on top of him. “I can’t believe you came here dressed like that. Is this how you always get your way? You make yourself pretty and climb into boys laps and suddenly they want you to be theirs?”

“Always. Is it working on you?” Jisung asks, smiling coyly down at Minho. “You want to be my boyfriend yet? You look like you want to be my boyfriend.”

“Sure,” Minho agrees, his brain not even allowing him to consider any other option. He’s in way too deep to pretend this isn’t happening, to pretend their relationship can ever go back to what it was. He probably has been since Saturday night. “Fine. Yes. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Great,” Jisung says cheerfully before leaning in and pressing their lips together. Minho takes it in happily, gratefully even, and he doesn’t last more than thirty seconds before he’s rolling onto his back and pulling Jisung on top of him proper. That romanticism from last night is nowhere to be found; there’s teeth, Jisung’s teeth biting down on Minho’s lower lip. There are tongues, Minho’s tongue licking into Jisung’s mouth. And sounds, Minho moaning and Jisung sighing as their heads turn from clear to hazy.

And there’s hands. Minho isn’t sure what to do with his hands at first, where they’re allowed to go when Jisung is the person on top of him. He wouldn’t grab his best friends ass, or tangle his fingers in his hair, or slide a sneaky thumb into his waistband and rub over his hipbone and the smooth skin that lays there. But Jisung is his boyfriend now, apparently. So he does. Minho takes advantage of that low cut shirt, shifts his kisses to Jisung’s neck, bites and leaves a bruise that marks Jisung as unmistakably his. And Jisung seems to like it, if his breathy moans and curses are anything to go by. Jisung is never quiet, and Minho is learning that this is no exception. And when Minho moves that grip on Jisung’s hip down, brushes over the fly of his jeans and hears his name called out desperately, he thinks he might just lose it.

“Jisung, fuck,” Minho whispers, moving his hand back up and grasping his jaw. “You have to be quieter. We aren’t the only ones here.”

“You can’t do that and ask me not to enjoy it,” Jisung responds, staring at Minho with hooded eyes and grinding into him to prove a point.  _ Fuck, he’s always been such a brat.  _

“If you can’t control your voice, we’re going to have to stop here,” Minho says, as much as he doesn’t want it to be true. No way in hell he’s actually walking out there and asking Hyunjin to leave, the satisfaction would be too much.    
  


“I guarantee you I can’t control my voice.”

“Then we have to stop here.”

“Fine,” Jisung sighs, rolling off Minho and onto his side. Minho brings him into a slower kiss, tangling their legs together and holding Jisung close until they need to part for air. “Damnit, that sucks.”

“Hmm?”

“I just really want to do more with you.”

“It isn’t weird? That it’s me?” Minho asks, unsure if Jisung had felt the same hesitations he had at the start. 

“Not as weird as I would have thought. Feels different though, messing around with you versus other guys,” he says. He’s staring into Minho’s eyes again, that stare like he’s trying to figure something crucial out.

“Different how?”

“Like, with other guys, I’m always trying to impress them. Thinking of new things to try that’ll have them on the edge of their seat. I can’t even try to do that with you, my mind is totally blank.”

“I can assure you,” Minho says, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend’s jaw, “you’re incredibly impressive. 

“You know, I still really think it.”

“What?”

“That I might be in love with you,” Jisung says, a shy smile on his face. “Even if you don’t want to hear it, I do.”

“I don’t understand how you can keep saying that. We’ve been dating for like twenty minutes.”

“Three days, in my opinion,” Jisung argues.

“That’s still not a long time though.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve only _ known _ you for three days. I’ve known you for two years. Isn’t that long enough?”

“Ok, fine,” Minho says. “Tell me why. What’s your reasoning?”

“Well, everyone else fucking sucks,” Jisung says. Minho barks out a loud laugh, unsure what he expected but still taken by surprise. “No, seriously,” Jisung continues, “you’re the best person I know. I never gave a shit about the other boyfriends because they never really gave me what I needed. When we broke up it was like, who gives a shit? It’s not like they were giving me anything I couldn’t get from you, at least intellectually. We’d leave dates and I’d instantly come to hang out with you. The only one who gets me is you.”

“Really? You always seemed so infatuated in whatever new guy you were chasing after.”

“That’s just because it was fun to try and figure them out. What they wanted from someone. It was kind of fun to try to be it. But after a while I couldn’t be bothered to go out of my way and do that stuff for them.”

“Hence the breakups.”

“Correct. Fun while it lasted but not in the long term.”

“Well, what if I want stuff you can’t be bothered to give me?” Minho asks.

“What do you want? I’m sure I can give it to you,” Jisung responds.

Minho has to think about it for a moment. He hadn’t felt inclined to date because he’d already gotten that kind of fulfillment from Jisung. And now he’s here, in his bed, lips red and puffy from kissing, shoulder on display from grabby hands and messy movements. Is there anything else he really needs besides the potential for more of this? “I think I just want you.”

“Well, I can give that to you,” Jisung says, grinning proudly and making spirit fingers around his face as if to advertise himself. “One Jisung, yours for the taking. I never really liked spending time with other people for too long, but I always like it with you. I never needed them, but I definitely need you.”

“Those are your qualifications for maybe being in love with someone?” Minho asks, amused by how simple the thought process is. If there’s one person in the world he needs, it’s definitely Jisung.

“Those are them.”

“Well, then I wonder if I might be in love with you too.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
